From Ant to Eagle(7)

“We’re going to bring the new people cookies,” Sammy chimed.

I groaned inwardly. I’d have preferred to keep the trip to ourselves.

“That’s a nice idea,” Mom said, rubbing Sammy’s shoulders from behind. She paused and looked at something on Sammy’s back. “Sammy, where did you get this bruise?” She lifted his sleeve to reveal a huge purple and black mark on the meaty part of his shoulder.

Sammy looked down at his shoulder inquisitively then looked over at me with eyes that asked, “What should I say?” I recalled the punch I’d given him the morning before. Had I hit him that hard? Sammy pulled down his sleeve and wiggled out from under Mom.

He shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t know where the bruise was from but Mom easily saw through it.

She glared at me.

“Cal?” she asked sternly.

I didn’t reply. I knew there was no way out of it.

“You have to stop being so rough with your brother. Look at his arm. He’s not a punching bag.”

I considered explaining that I had barely hit him but decided it was a waste of breath. “Sorry, Sammy,” I said.

We walked to the garage and grabbed our bikes under Mom’s continued stare. I could tell she was debating whether or not to continue the lecture, so I jumped on my bike and started riding away quickly.

“Hey! Wait up!” I heard Sammy yell from behind.

The sun was already above the trees and the humid Ontario heat seeped through our clothes. There wasn’t so much as a wisp of wind to dull the onslaught.

We turned out of our driveway onto County Road 11 pedalling at an ill-advised pace. Sammy’s bike was a lot smaller so he had to pedal twice as hard to keep up. Fifteen minutes later, we were verging on heat stroke as we turned down Thornton Road. My mouth felt like sandpaper and my shirt was drenched with sweat.

“Almost…there…” I heard Sammy gasp from behind as we closed in on Mr. Wilson’s old house. His bike swerved left and right as he laboured to push down the pedals.

When we neared the long driveway that led to the Wilson’s, I heard a dog barking, distant and nonthreatening at first, but closer with each successive cry. Looking down the driveway, I saw a large black dog barrelling down on us. Immediately all the exhaustion I had just felt dissipated and a wave of adrenaline surged through me. Head down, knuckles white, I pedalled hard and fast past the driveway. I didn’t think to turn around until I had gone a hundred metres down the road. Finally—out of breath and lightheaded—I turned around to a horrific sight.

Sammy lay flat on his back with his bike beside him. The dog was on top of him, pouncing at his face while Sammy kicked and flailed to push him back. My mind reeled as I thought of a way to help. Two boys were no match for an angry dog. I looked around for a rock or branch or anything to use as a weapon but there was nothing. All the while, Sammy’s screams echoed down the country road. Just before I had made up my mind to pedal back and take my chances with the dog, I heard another voice.

“Chloe, stop! Stop that right now!”

Running down the driveway was the older girl I had seen in church.

“Bad dog, Chloe!” she said, reaching where Sammy lay shrieking on the ground. She grabbed the dog by the collar and pulled it off Sammy.

I pedalled back over and dropped my bike beside Sammy’s. He wasn’t the gory mess I’d expected. A single stream of blood trickled from his knee down his shin but that was the only sign of injury I could make out on his whole body.

“Are you okay, Sammy?”

He looked shocked and a little upset but he wasn’t crying.

“That dog knocked me off my bike and slobbered on me,” he said, with a pouting face. “And you just rode away.”

He looked on the verge of tears and I felt my face flush as the girl looked at me. Great first impression, I thought.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am,” the girl said as she held back the dog that was still trying to pounce at Sammy as if it were some sort of game. “She has a thing about chasing bicycles but she’s completely harmless, I promise.”

Sammy seemed satisfied by this and stuck out his hand to let the dog lick him. He giggled and pulled his hand back again, the pouting gone.

“I’m Raquel,” the girl said, turning to me, “we just moved here last week.” She stuck out her hand and I shook it.

“I’m Cal,” I said. “I think we saw you in church.”

“Oh, yeah, I thought you two looked familiar.”

Her huge smile revealed rows of perfectly straight, white teeth and she had the same green eyes I’d noticed in her sister.

“I’m Cal’s brother,” Sammy said, holding out his hand. Raquel bent down slightly so she was closer to his height and shook it.

“Yes, I can see that. You two look really alike. What’s your name?”

“Sammy,” he said, a broad smile crossing his face as he looked over at me. He loved when people said we looked alike. I hated it. We looked nothing alike! Okay, the brown hair and eyes maybe, but I was like a foot taller and not chubby.

“I made you some cookies,” Sammy said, turning back to Raquel and holding up his knapsack. He put it on the ground and unzipped the top, but when he looked inside his face showed utter disappointment. He pulled out the Tupperware container but instead of chocolate chip cookies it now appeared to contain a blob of melted, slimy dough.